Spinning
by Handsome Awkward
Summary: A terrible drug can get you to the highest plateau, But it can also bring you down to the lowest plain. Pick and choose. Thanks to the one loyal reviewer. hehe.--Read and Review- even if you don't like it. That's not a question...it's a demand.oh yeah.
1. Beginning to get it

a/n: yes this is a drug related story. Enjoy-- read and review...even if you don't like it.

don't own

--

It hurt. The first time he did it. Well, obviously it hurt, anything you inhale through your nose would hurt. But this, this was a different kind of pain. It was like his sinuses were being ripped apart.

He felt like he was floating, and yet he felt as if he was falling.

His world seemed to spin, though he knew he was sitting still.

His mind felt like it was going to explode, yet he felt an amazing rush.

He felt tears build up behind his closed eyes, and he wanted to feel them drop.

Pressure was building up on him, but he felt like he was falling to pieces.

Everything melded together, but his mind seemed to vortex into another time continuum.

It was a wonderful feeling, but he felt sick.

He never wanted to do it again, and yet, oh and yet…it felt so good.

That was what meth did to you. The beautiful and at the same time terrifying experience was all too much.

But, it was perfect. The perfect death.

He felt alive.

--

He was only seventeen. And sure as the old cliché goes, 'teenagers experiment.'

But, all he'd ever done was pot, and like that was a big deal?

Especially in the seventies.

He hadn't been exposed to much; weed, alcohol, even the 'only on that one occasion' a Vicoden. It wasn't a huge deal to be high, not made out as good as many people assume. Just the slightly fuzzy, floating feeling when you're at that perfect plateau. Much like the buzz of alcohol, only more tiring.

He was not an idiot, he knew what to do and what not to do…he hadn't even smoked a cigarette- well not since his dad had caught him and threw him out into the yard to sleep-- right after he ATE the whole pack.

A turn off to nicotine was when you had it stuck- grimy and thick- between your teeth.

No, Gregory House wasn't an idiot. He knew the outcome of all drugs….well most. He'd never done them.

Not speed, crank, meth, juicy-juice, 'chasing the dragon', nose candy, booger sugar, crystal, glass….No. he was smarter than that.

It was a stupid decision. A stupid night gone wrong.

--

The visit.

A visit to the big apple. A friend he'd met in Brazil called and his mother said yes (He's going to be 18 in two months), against his fathers wishes, and who was he to turn down this incredible offer?

He showed up at the New Yorker's apartment a bit past midnight. The flight had been delayed two hours because of the snow.

"Dane?" The hallway was quiet and dark. It felt uncomfortable- like he was in a homeless shelter or something.

He knocked and said his friends name once again.

Dane opened the door.

"Gregory." He emphasized each syllable as if it was greh- gore- eeeee.

"Hey." He nodded simply and let himself in.

Despite the rank smell, the place seemed to be okay. He sat down on the ratty grey couch and his bags dropped beside the arm of it.

He saw powder in a line on the table. "What's that?" His chin jutted toward the whitish-yellow substance.

"You've never seen speed before? Mother of God have you been repressed."

"That's Meth?" Greh-Gore- eeee. Asked almost horrified.

"Duh dude. Try some."

Dane shifted the mirror toward him with an anxious smile on his face.

"Nah." he shook his head quietly to discourage his friend from trying.

"Just try it, man, it's not like it's going to kill you."

_That's exactly what it'll do._

He tried to say no, but it DID look inviting. And God help him-- he wanted it.

He didn't nod, didn't blink…didn't hesitate again. He grabbed the mirror from his 'friend' gently and placed it on his leg. Dane handed him a rolled up dollar bill and stood back in admiration of himself that he'd gotten yet another sucker on the hook.

Greg didn't blink, didn't hesitate- be bent down and snorted the line.

The burn was greatly unexpected.

It was a wonderful- no, exhilarating, burn.

It was what it felt like to be alive. Mind clearingly alive.

--

He went into a frenzy. One line quickly dissolved into two. Two into three. Three into…who cared? He was high. Higher than he'd ever been. Higher than he'd ever expected. Than he'd ever imagined.

He was spun.

--

He stayed in the same position for a long time. Contemplating, imagining, dreaming, speeding.

He thought. He thought long and hard, harder than ever. He tasted the bitterness in his mouth. He felt his nervous system twitching. Everything felt good and awful at the same time. It was mind-blowing.

Hunger. He was definitely hungry. He wanted something to eat but everything he even imagined made his stomach turn.

No- food was not an option.

The next sense he had was the scent of nicotine. Marlboro to be exact. And God did he want one.

--

--

Two and a half days later he was still spun out. Walking down the street hand in hand with a bottle of Vodka. He hadn't dared take another line. Not after the four- five….three? He'd had two and half nights ago.

Three days of a high and finally he laid down on the grimy couch and almost immediately went unconscious. A dreamless, deep, mind numbing sleep.

It was good. Until he woke up.

Never- would he again take another look back at that monster.

……

Tbc- if you liked it. I have some good ideas for this story.

.


	2. Developing New Habits

Two days later.

Of course you'd think it was a terrible idea. And you'd be right

Going back to the same drug is like…addiction?

No, Gregory House was not addicted to crank. That would be irresponsible. Not that he was the number one example of all things holy but…seriously? Hard core drugs?

That was ridiculous.

Except no matter how ridiculous it looked or sounded to other people- he couldn't wait to feel the powder in his nostrils again. It burned perfectly- heavenly. It took you to highs you've never even imagined. Delicious.

"So, how many days are you planning to be here?"

"A while." Greg said staring at Dane's pocket. He was still high from the two nights before-- but he wanted more.

Dane flipped out a small bag full of the devilish powder and flicked it- "How long?"

Greg smiled. "Three weeks."

"For sure?"

"Definitely." Greg answered reaching for the drug.

"fine, fine, eager McBeaver."

"Wow. Good nickname." House replied sarcastically. He opened the pack and poured its contents out onto the mirror.

"Man, you don't know how to do it." Dane grabbed it from him and started to delicately, with professional hands, crushed the whitish yellow drug into a fine powder.

Greg leaned over abruptly and with a straw that was cut short, snorted the line with ease. It felt good.

Addicted? No, he was just having fun.

--

Three weeks.

Going home. Back to wherever home was this year. Oh, right Nevada. Going home to Nevada.

Gregory House boarded his plane. Once he found his seat he was relieved to see that it was by the window. He smiled, still buzzing from two nights before. His eyes were still glassy, his head still spinning, his reaction to everything-- still paranoid.

He sat down and began to ring his hands. Looking out the window he felt the vibration of the large aircraft under him. It almost lulled him to sleep within the first few minutes. Another wave of relief hit him when he realized no one was going to sit beside him. Where had all this luck come from?

He smiled and closed his eyes.

--

What felt like minutes later he was awoken abruptly by the shaking of turbulence. He felt sick, but not like a hangover not at all.

He'd never been depressed in his life but- he felt helpless. His mind was racing, he had awoken to more that just the turbulence, his head was pounding, he felt his nose running, and he was sweating profusely. His first thought was to get to the bathroom. He ran, self-consciously holding his hand in front of his face, to the small bathroom that said 'vacant' and jerked it open.

He landed inside and on the floor with a bang, probably gaining looks from passengers sitting close to the restrooms.

He was freaking out. Never before had he had a nervous breakdown but now he was going through all the symptoms. He had nothing to be worried about though. He was lost, there was no cause for his behavior.

He stood up, looking in the mirror, he couldn't believe what he saw.

He looked terrible. His eyes were sunk in, and he obviously lost weight. That wasn't a great thing when he was only 125 in the first place. He stared at the stranger.

God, what had he done?

He filled up the sink with cold water and stuck his head in. For at least fifteen seconds he was under cold cold water. Once he came up from air he did it once more.

Looking in the mirror once again he stared at his reflection. It looked a bit better but was still pretty rough. His glassy eyes made him uncomfortable. His pupils were still dilated and they were still dark but he could probably call it off as being tired.

--

The flight was pretty long but he finally got off the plane. No one was there- obviously- waiting for him and did his best to get to his luggage but the crowds of people had him on edge. He grabbed his bags and practically ran out of the airport.

The cab came quickly, thank God, and jumped in just as fast as it had parked.

This was the first time he'd kept a secret this big. And he sure as hell wouldn't blab this one out.

--

He hadn't touched the stuff. Not once since the plane mishap. After he'd ridden the plane and went through all of the withdraw symptoms, then went home an fell into a twenty four hour sleep, then woke up to horrifying headache, depression and another set of sweat, he was never touching the stuff again.

So he thought.

New York, of course drugs were easy to get. Nevada…oh he'd definitely get something.

But damn it if school didn't start in two weeks.

--

"Don't lose any of the money. And don't spend it on something useless."

"I won't mom." Greg said getting out of the car in the mall parking lot.

"Alright, Get on a pay phone and call me when you're ready to come home."

He waved a dismissive hand, "Sure," He closed the door and walked slowly into the mall. He felt tired, all the time. It was horrible, being sober. He was very clearly irate when anyone talked to him and he just wanted to be alone.

So much for that happening. The second he stepped into the large myriad of stores he stopped and looked around. Everyone from school was there. The jocks with their protein shakes- getting ready for another year of wedgies, the beautiful cheerleaders hanging of their shoulders. The wannabe cheerleaders stood by discussing how they wished they were the petite blondes, and the others just blended in with the crowds.

Laughter, talking, and the occasional catcall had Greg willing to puke. He hated crowded places. The first store- the one he liked the most, sold records and magazines. He found himself walking toward it despite his mother's specific 'no clothes, no go' rule. He still hated the fact that she drove him around, but at least he got here.

He stood staring at Rolling Stones albums- He wanted one. He looked at the credit card in his hand and shook his head- she'd be in labor with that cow for a long time. Screw it. He grabbed the album and went to the cash register quickly so as not to get sidetracked with other classics.

He paid for the album and left the store just as quickly as he had come in. The closest clothes store was just ahead. He stepped into the store and looked around. The environment made him queasy. It was everything he didn't like about the seventies…disco.

He swallowed and looked around skeptically. Then turned around to leave. Until there was a hand on his shoulders. He rolled his eyes and turned around to give this mystery person a good chew out but once he did he was surprised at who it was.

"Never thought a guy of your stature would come to a place like this." She looked down, "Especially with a Rolling Stones album. You know those guys'll kick your ass if they see that don't you."

"You talk a lot." He said to the blonde.

"Right." She smiled a gorgeous smile and turned her head, hair flipping along after it, toward her football playing boyfriend. "Come with me." She said once secure he wasn't looking.

He played along, following her out into the back parking lot.

"What?" He asked tiredly. She pulled out a pack of Marlboro lights and picked two out of it. The two ended up between her lips and she lit them both and handed one to him. He took it willingly and took a long puff from it. He leaned back against the wall and took another drag. She copied him and smiled.

"He hates it." She said quietly.

"He?"

"Jake. He hates that I smoke."

"Smoke what?" Greg asked with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, haha." She smiled

"So why'd you ask me to come out here? Couldn't you smoke one by yourself?"

"You just had that look." She said smiling up at him.

"What look?"

"The annoyed, 'I need a smoke' look."

"Well, great, I'm glad I give off that vibe." he said rolling his eyes.

"You do anything else?" She asked, a whirlwind of smoke coming from her lips as she spoke.

"Not much." He said nonchalantly throwing down the butt of the cigarette and stepped on it. She did the same.

"Crank?" She asked.

His eyes widened and he looked her down.

"I'm a cheerleader. Got to look good and stay awake doing it." She smirked.

He was still speechless.

"Well when you get your tongue back, why don't you call me and tell me if you want to go to a party." She took out a notepad with flowers surrounding the edges and she wrote down her number. He grabbed it and smiled at her, a small smile. She smiled as well, reached up and gave him a small kiss. A kiss that held promises.

He stood there stunned. She turned on her heel and left him to stare at the cars.

--

He'd finally gotten all of his shopping done, and he sat in his room, on his bed staring at the wall. He kept pondering calling the girl. What was her name again? Who cared? He could get some drugs. Tonight.

He grabbed the phone and quickly pulled out the folded piece of paper in his pocket, dialed the number and waited.

"Hello?" Came the preoccupied question.

"Um, it's Greg."

"Oh great!" She practically squealed. "My parents aren't home and the party starts in a little while--come over now."

He nodded, knowing she couldn't see him and hung up the phone. He grabbed his jacket and ran down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" John House asked.

"To my friends'." He said

"You have friends?" His condescending tone made Greg want to throw something at him.

"Yes, father, besides what you may think I can make friends. Unlike some people I know." He muttered and went to leave.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, dad, I'm going to be late."

"Late for what? You're just going to your friends house."

"We're going to a movie."

"Why don't you sit down and tell me where you're really going." He said pointing next to him.

Greg looked at him, rolled his eyes, and left the house without looking back.

--

He walked the two blocks to her house and knocked on the door.

She opened up, glassy eyed and joyful. She grabbed his arm and pulled him in.

He took a moment to look around her abode, if you will. She didn't give him long before she practically jumped into his arms. She pulled down his head and her lips captured his. He didn't hesitate to return the kiss. And who said speed was bad when it gave you libido like this?

She opened her mouth and laughed into his. "Come here." She pulled him by the collar of his shirt.

He cleared his throat and blinked his eyes, freshly kissed, he asked "What's that?"

"The best damn toot you can pay for." She smiled. He smiled right back looking down at the tinfoil in her hands. It was V shaped and he was confused for a moment.

"Don't tell me you still snort the stuff?" She asked looking him up and down. "When you smoke it- it goes to your brain faster." She smiled again and did him the courtesy of lighting it. "Gotta suck it quick."

He did as was told and the high that hit him was ridiculous. Definitely quicker than snorting. He was amazed- and she could tell it. She laughed abruptly and said "Try again."

He did it once more and was more amazed at what two drags did.

She grabbed him again and pressed her lips to his. He was again eager to continue. She led him to the couch and pushed him down. He landed with his legs sprawled and breathing erratic. She lowered herself to straddle him.

"People are going to be here soon." He said between her pecks all over his face.

"Nah, I lied." She smiled and took his lips again.

He sighed when her hands reached the band of his jeans. She began to unfasten them and he jumped slightly when her hand split the zipper and grabbed his length.

"Big." She sighed.

"Mhhgn." She grabbed tightly and he felt as if he'd died and gone to heaven.

--

They lay tangled together on her living room floor. She was staring at his chest, drawing pointless symbols on it, while he stared at the ceiling wide awake and almost ready for another round.

"Fun." She stated pinching between his pecs.

"Mhm."

"Any actual words going to come out?" She asked

"Yes, see?" he smiled down at her.

"Good, I like your voice." She said resting her head against his chest.

"Ugh, withdraw'll be a bitch." He said sighing,

"Yep."

"Never, never again."

--

tbc


End file.
